ClockWork
by narquotic
Summary: Written by tens and mourned by hundreds. Leaving thousands of pains, regrets and unnamed emotions that would be forever buried with her. Until one day...


I'll try an angst story this time. So hope ya'll enjoy or cry…whichever you do first.

**ClOCkWoRk**

Summary: A death written by tens. A death mourned by hundreds. A death that left thousands of pains, regrets and unnamed emotions that would be forever buried with her. Until one day…

OOO

OOOO

OOOOO

OOOO

OOO

He ran.

He shunpoed.

He flew.

He jumped.

He did everything.

Everything to increase his speed. Everything to catch time. Everything, everything to…

"_Ten years and you still haven't changed, eh, strawberry boy?"_

He could still hear her taunts, her lilting voice, the teasing, and playful tone hidden beneath a smile. He almost scoffed and jab right back about nature's justified response to her height. He almost wanted to berate her, show her how much had truly changed. How much he had grown. How much he could still…

"_Baka! Of course I know that, you don't have to tell me! It's like you don't even need me sometimes.'_

That's true. Sometimes, he does made her feel that way. That was because he can handle things, he was in control and didn't really need her help, because she would only get hurt in the progress. It was the cost of their bond to wane. Because he didn't let her in, because he always kept her away at arms reach.

But this time, this time…more than ever, he wanted to breach that gap. An impossibly large gap only held by strained thread between her world and his, worn over time and space.

"_Some things are ever changing. Some are an unending cycle, one has to live through it, survive it to get to the next level. So you need to work harder. But sometimes, you stop. And when you stop…you try the best you can to stay alive because that's what you worked hard for in the first place. To get that peace of mind."_

That's what she told him after the Winter War.

That's what she advised him on after asking her what to do. What to expect and how to move on from here. It was vague, yet clear. Though he already knew, knew for a fact that someday she will leave him. She will go back to Soul Society and let him live his life like nothing happened. Like he did not save the world from potential danger. Like his life was the way it was.

Like he never met _her_.

It was her own selfishness.

To let him start something…then end it.

"_It would be best…that I stay here."_

It was unfair.

"_If Inoue loves you, then what's the hesitation?"_

Unfair because of her worthless self-sacrifice that neither benefited the both of them.

"_You'll live better here. The human world is such an interesting place."_

Unfair because she left the story unfinished.

"_End? Nah, I think it's just the beginning. You're getting married! You should be happy! You and Inoue reminds me of these cute bunnies—."_

Unfair because their were still a lot of questions plaguing his mind.

"_Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll figure it out."_

In retrospect, he still needed her.

"_All the best to you, berry head..."_

He didn't stop.

"_I made my choice, and I don't regret it."_

Didn't waver.

She was getting colder and colder, the warm trickle of blood down his shirt doubled his anxiety, but her grip on his hakamas relieved him.

'_She's alive, she's alive, she's alive, she's alive…'_ assuring himself with this mantra he continued.

Droplets of moisture assaulted his face, then a full blown rain descended from the heavens.

He hated rain.

"_Like a cat…"_

She loved it.

"_Because it's an element of ice…" _

His memories of her supplemented his questions. The unending images of her smiling face, the serene moments and the playful banters, it was so long ago. So long that it had been painful to think of them now.

Urahara's store.

He can't remember why or when had it been so fucking far! Had it truly been ten years? Ten years since the Winter War, ten years of a normal young man who held onto the memories of old and dream the events of the past. Ten years and…

"Ich…go—"

His heart nearly stopped as he pressed his ears down her mouth, refusing his eyes to meet the large gaping hole in her chest.

"Shhh, we're almost there, Rukia, just—"

"Ichi—"

"Shhh, save your strength, don't talk—"

She coughed violently in his arms, her tight grip alerting him to go faster, to move, to find help, to get her back to a healthy and _living_ Rukia.

He spotted it in the distance. The nostalgic piece of land in the middle of a remote area, cement walls covered for privacy. The welcoming sign, old and unstylish. The place of solutions, the pillar of strength and home of friends to gather together. A place where one can be safe.

Ichigo did not hesitate to slide the door wide open with a loud thunk.

"Urahara! Urahara!!"

"…"

"Fuck! Urahara! Where--!"

"The shop is close—"a large shadow appeared in the doorway, rubbing his neck, blinking sleepy eyes towards the intruder.

"Tessai! Where's Urahara?" the bulky man's eyes widened. Ichigo Kurosaki was here, and… he quickly assessed the situation, the bundle in his arms—Rukia Kuchiki…her reiatsu was waning. Tessai disappeared quickly from the back door, knowing the circumstances were far more than he could handle.

In less than a second, the scraggly blond and former captain of the twelfth division reappeared with a worried face, quickly frowning and leading the two to a room, silently and somberly—

"Urahara, I—" Ichigo's voice was straining, he could feel Rukia…slipping.

"Call your wife," the usually bubbly captain ordered tersely.

"Yes, she's coming with Renji—and I just—"

"Put her down Ichigo," He was too worried to lash back questions, Rukia was…was…

He struggled to lay her down the proffered futon in a bare room as her grip tightened in his hakamas. The pain surging overwhelmingly through her body that Ichigo shivered at the excruciating sense of pain that she felt passing through him.

He was saved by the sight of her pained face as she tucked her head over his shoulder. He could smell the coppery scent of her blood, the slow seeping of the warm substances down his neck.

Ichigo wanted to see what was wrong.

Wanted to know why she was breathing so heavily.

Why he was drowning in the pool of her blood.

Fear gripped him. He couldn't put her down…couldn't let go.

"S…ss-orr..y…"

That fear doubled as her voice laced with a regretful, aching and hopeless tone, far too different from her usual commanding, proud and gleeful voice. She can't do this now. Ichigo narrowed his eyes that started to sting. He knew, but not now.

Not now.

He squeezed her closer to him.

"Shut up. Don't you do this Rukia."

His voice came out harsh, choking and bitter. This time, he couldn't say "I'll protect you." or "I'll save you." He can't use them. His voice, his reason and his knowledge of the situation told him that. There was nothing he could do, but they said that the power of words are sharper than an edge's sword. If he can't cut down whatever pains she have…then all Ichigo can assure her were words.

But he too knew that words were meaningless. Meaningless because there was no action in it, an irony.

"…I…c-a…n't—any…mo…re,"

"Don't you fucking do this," he couldn't take it. Her reiatsu was increasingly deteriorating. She was kidding him, and it wasn't any funny joke like the usual. She was not acting, or taunting him with stupid things. There was nothing sort of humours about it…and it squeezed at his heart.

"Please wait, just wait…" a sort of relief flooded through him as he felt his wife's aura came into the vicinity. He felt another winded breath from her, as she held on. Ichigo knew Rukia was strong, believed that she could do this, that she can drop this act. This surreal act where he held her nearly dying and fragile form in his arms…it did not suit Kuchiki Rukia.

It wasn't her.

"Don't you fucking die on me, Rukia."

In mere seconds Inoue's familiar face creased with worry knelt down and proceeded to call her Santen Kenshuun to heal her. She was wet and her eyes were puffed…he noticed that she must've cried while following them and knowing their friends' life in danger.

Ichigo concentrated on his wife's face. Afraid to look down at the girl in his arms, but only wanting to see Inoue's confirmation whether or not she'll be alright. But Ichigo knew that she will…Rukia can't—can't…

"I—"

He watch as Inoue began to fret, eyes already spilled over into crystal drops. Her eyes darting restlessly as she concentrated harder as she cried, refusing to look at Ichigo.

"Orihime," the orange-haired man queried-in and almost frightened and hesitant voice. "Orihime, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, auburn hair flying about as her tears continued to trail sporadically down her face, eyes shutting as she focused all her energy on a failing attempt, "I-I can't—Kuchiki-san—"

"What do you mean you can't!?" Ichigo didn't know he was panicking, her grip on him began to slacken. "Orihime! Fucking heal her!!"

"I—_can't_!!" his wife sobbed in between, as she intensified her powers…but the wounds would not close. It was widening…it was slowly swallowing her into nothingness. The place where the hollow pierced through her began to eat away at her body.

"What?!" his eyes widened, his hollow lurking in the depths of his consciousness. But what good would that do? What would his hollow do in a situation far from their control?

Everything went so fast…

Ichigo could barely hear Renji's winded outburst as he stumbled in the room.

"Kuchiki-taicho!"

He had barely felt Kuchiki Byakuya shunpoed in the room, and then following behind him was the fourth squad captain herself, Unohana-taicho. Cold, but with an underlying concern lacing his voice the sixth squad captain stiffly ordered Ichigo and Orihime to leave, eyes never leaving the immobile and quickly paling form of his sister.

He was too numb, but he consented giving Rukia's body a last hugged as her blood continued to flow and the hole widening. The orange-haired teen never felt nor prayed so fervently in his life that she should be okay. He closed his eyes tightly, _'Don't you dare die, Rukia…'_

Urahara quickly led them outside, while also barring the red-haired shinigami from rushing to his best friend's side. Ichigo limply held a sobbing Orihime to his chest as they were led outside. His blood spattered shinigami clothes was a painful reminder…

A continuous anxiousness seeping inside him, he could feel Renji's own worry contorted in his face as he slid down at the adjacent wall and bowed his head.

Rain pounded outside, the rolling of thunder was imminent.

Ichigo left his wife's side as he went outside and sat at the store's steps, bloodied hands over his hair.

The large drops were suddenly gaining its strength as the winds howled and lightening illuminated the darkened sky, as a quick burst of power surged forth from the room, and just as swiftly-dropped into nothingness.

His eyes quickly widened as he scrambled back up…

Orihime gasped as another bout of tears descended down her shocked face.

Renji snapped back up and nearly ripped the shoji screens off while Tessai stopped him from going any further, as the red haired howled Rukia's name in anguish.

It felt too real…

Ichigo pushed his way through as Urahara tried shielding him off, but the scene was unmistakable…

Kuchiki Byakuya had severed Rukia's soul connecting to her shinigami chain.

Her reiatsu…her pulse…

Was _gone_.

OOO

OOOO

OOOOO

OOOO

OOO

Ahahaha—er wait, I think laughing is not the right response. But seriously I love Rukia, (than Orihime) and she's not going to be dead throughout or anything but you'll all see! Thanks and any revs would be a heaven sent. ;) :):)


End file.
